Mr Monk And The Burned Spy
by SuperBear
Summary: Because of a common enemy, Adrian Monk and Michael Westen, along with their associates, are held hostage in a bank vault. And the place is rigged to explode.


"IT'S DALE THE WHALE! HE'S BEHIND ALL THIS! HE'S GOING TO BLOW US ALL UP!"

You'll have to excuse Adrian Monk for shouting. Earlier, he'd gotten too close to an explosion. Fortunately, Mr. Monk was uninjured by the blast but he did suffer temporary hearing loss. Ergo, the loud shouting voice while he was trapped inside a crowded bank vault.

In addition to his temporary hearing loss, Mr. Monk was traumatized by other events of that day: multiple explosions, gunfights, and fistfights, not to mention the chain-smoking of Madeline Westen.

Incidentally, that explosion which so impaired his hearing was set off by Mr. Monk's three new friends: Michael Westen, Sam Axe and Fiona Glenanne. A fourth friend, Michael's mother Madeline, did some play-acting but otherwise was more of a bystander to the action. Much like Mr. Monk himself.

Those four friends were in the bank vault with Mr. Monk along with his comely and able assistant Natalie Teeger and various employees of the First Miami Bank.

There were also the six hooded men holding weapons aimed at this prestigious and motley group.

If you know Mr. Monk, you know he is a famous detective from San Francisco. When asked earlier why he was in Miami, Mr. Monk rattled this off:

"My assistant Natalie and I were approached by a phony client in San Francisco. Probably an associate of Dale Biederbeck! He lured us to Miami with the promise of a challenging mystery for me and a big payoff for Natalie! Then I had to help clear a drug lord named Kalid of murder charges! He was holding Natalie hostage!"

That ended that conversation real quick.

What Mr. Monk left out was that in order to fly to Miami he had to take some drugs that relieved him of his phobias but also changed his personality so that he turned into an obnoxious person he called "the Monk." Only after the drugs wore off was he able to help Kalid and solve some other mysteries in Miami.

If you know Mr. Monk, you know that solving mysteries is no problem for our Mr. Monk. More of a problem is his multiple phobias. Such as the fear of confined spaces, like this crowded bank vault. Mr. Monk also suffers from a fear of germs, snakes, heights, milk and other phobias not relevant to the current situation. At least not yet.

What was relevant was the dangerous and troubling situation that Mr. Monk was describing in a very loud voice.

"HE'S PLANNING TO BLOW US UP! HE'S PLANNING TO BLOW US ALL UP!"

The tallest of the hooded armed men spoke in a slightly muffled voice.

"We're not getting blown up," he insisted. "We just got to hold you here until a certain time. Then we clear out and get our payoff."

"OH, YOU'LL GET A PAYOFF ALL RIGHT! A PAYOFF LIKE THIS!" Mr. Monk spread his arms diagonally. "BO-O-O-OM!"

Michael spoke quietly. "Mister Monk, maybe it would be better if you didn't talk right now."

"OKAY! OKAY, MICHAEL! OKAY! I'LL STOP TALKING NOW!"

The shortest of the six armed men tilted his hooded head.

"What's he going on about? Who's this 'whale' guy?"

The tall one shook his head. "The guy's nuts."

"He means Dale Biederbeck," Natalie said firmly.

"Who's Dale Biederbeck?" Shorty stumbled over the name.

"A very powerful man," Monk said, the hearing loss suddenly gone. "Even from prison. Even though he's lost a lot of that power, I'm guessing he had the money and the people in place for this before that happened. To be activated in the event of his downfall." "

Standing with his arms crossed, Michael nodded. "The man still pulls a lot of strings."

"And he's he kind of guy who'll double-cross you," Sam said.

"Oh, he's good at that," Monk said, giving the hooded men a sly look.

The short one jerked his weapon. "Stop trying to psych us out!"

Natalie raised her hands slightly. "He lured Mister Monk and me here because we interfered with his plans in California."

"And he lured us here because we interfered with his criminal activities in Miami," Fiona said.

The Tall One grunted. "Sounds like it's rough to be you."

"You should let us go," Natalie said.

"I don't think so."

"I'd listen to the lady if I were you boys." Madeline waved fingers that held an imaginary cigarette. "You'd be saving your own lives."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen."

Fiona leaned in toward Monk's assistant. "I like your style, Natalie."

"Thanks, Fiona," Natalie said with a smile. "I like yours, too. Except for, you know, that whole arms dealer thing."

With her usual cool casual facial expression, Fiona shrugged. "To each her own."

"Not judging," Natalie said. "Not after you helped me get out of that jam."

"You really should let us go," Monk urged. The Tall One shook his head.

Michael leaned in to talk quietly with the detective and his assistant. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Mister Monk. And you, too, Natalie. But sometimes the best approach is indirect."

Natalie leaned in as Michael whispered. "Can you pretend to be sick, Mister Monk?"

As Monk responded with a weak groan, Natalie looked directly at her new ex-spy friend. "Trust me, Michael. If there's anything Mister Monk would be good at, besides being a detective, it'd be that."

Nodding, Michael slowly rose and addressed the Tall One.

"This man is very sick. Will you let me search through the desks for some pills and medication?"

"No one leaves the vault," Tall One insisted gruffly.

As Monk groaned loudly while clutching his stomach, Michael stepped forward and spoke in a quiet urgent tone.

"Listen to me. If this man dies, it will send the others into a panic, and they will fight back."

"And then where's your payoff?" Natalie asked.

The Tall One shifted his shoulders slightly and jerked his head. Michael gave him an unflinching gaze. "Will you please let me attend to this man's condition?"

The Tall One considered for a moment, turning his head side to side, then he jerked his head.

"Okay, go. But I'm sending someone with you."

"Of course," Michael said. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

But Natalie caught the hint of a smile as Michael walked away.

As the ex-spy left with his armed escort, Monk continued to clutch his stomach as he breathed heavily.

"How you holding up?" Madeline asked quietly.

Glancing up with poignant dark eyes, Monk pointed. "There's a smudge on the wall," he said in a weak voice.

"There is, isn't there? Now don't you worry, Adrian honey. I'll clean that smudge right up. Natalie, dear, can I borrow a wipe?"

"Here you go, Madeline."

"Thanks, hon." After she rubbed the offending spot, Madeline smiled at her new detective friend. "There. How's that? Is that all better?"

"It's perfect," Natalie said.

"Thank you, Madeline." When Monk smiled, it was a serene smile. It was also brief. A moment later, he returned to his usual pained look.

"It hasn't been an easy day for you, has it, dear?"

Monk shook his head. "Bombs, gunfire, terrorists, gang members, a drug lord." He spoke in a groaning voice as his head moved loosely back and forth. "What is all that?"

"Hey, look, buddy," Sam said. "I know it's not the kind of detective work you do. Which is pretty impressive, by the way."

"Very impressive," Fiona said.

"Very," from Madeline.

"Yeah," Sam said. "But we did what we had to to get Natalie away from that Kalid guy. Just in case you didn't crack the case."

"Oh, he always solves the case," Natalie said. "But thanks anyway, guys."

"Any time, sister," Sam said with a grin.

"No problem, Nat," Fiona said sweetly.

Madeline smiled at Monk. "I don't always like it, either, Adrian dear. All the guns and explosions and all the danger. But when someone needs help, they do what they have to, what they're good at. Just like you do."

Monk shook his head. "What they do is insane "

"Insane is our specialty," Fiona said.

"And it did give you time to solve the big case," Sam said.

"Yes," Monk said absently. "Here's what happened."

"Buddy, we've been through this,"Sam said.

Natalie waved her hand. "Hold on, you guys. I think doing the 'here's what happened' will help calm him down."

"I'm all for that," Fiona said.

"You go right ahead, Adrian."

"Let's hear it, buddy."

As Monk spoke in the voice of one in a trance, the others pictured black-and-white scenes of the various cases Monk had solved in the past few days. These cases involved a monkey, a goldfish, a moon rock and other elements from Monk's previous cases. All arranged by Dale Biederbeck and his agents.

"And that fake client told us all about you," Monk concluded in a mumbling voice as he trailed off.

Sam smiled and nodded. "Just like our fake client told us all about you two. We were supposed to be your tour guides in Miami."

"Tour guides in hell!" Monk shouted.

That was when Michael returned with his armed hoodlum escort who shoved him across the room.

"Now sit down and be quiet!"

Michael sat on the floor with his friends. That was a prearranged signal for the bank employees to close in so Michael and company could talk and make plans. As those employees huddled around, the ex-spy and his associates spoke in hushed whispers.

"How'd it go?" Sam asked.

"I sent my little friend off to get hot water and towels."

"They're not the brightest bunch, are they?" Fiona said.

"They are the ones pointing guns at us," Monk pointed out.

"They're probably too busy thinking about their big payoff," Michael murmured.

"Oh, yes. Their big payoff." Monk spread out his arms again. "Boom," he said in a low voice.

"Hopefully what I did will prevent that," Michael said. "I turned some light bulbs into explosives, using cleaning supplies."

Monk looked aghast. "You used cleaning supplies to make explosives?" he whispered harshly.

"Not so loud, Mister Monk." Michael poured out some Tic-Tacs. "Here's some pills to calm you down," he said loudly. "They'll stop the hallucinations and all that crazy talk."

Monk responded with more harsh whispering. "Cleaning supplies are there to make the world a better place."

Michael smiled at his captors as he mumbled his response. "If it gets us out of here, that makes the world a better place. I also used a computer line to contact someone on the outside. Someone who owes us a favor. He should have a vehicle waiting. Actually, more than one." He nodded at his female associates. "Fi, Mom, tell the others to get ready to charge these guys and then evacuate.."

Fiona and Madeline both nodded as they slowly rose.

"What about you, Mister Monk?" Michael asked. "Will you be ready to help us overpower these guys?"

"Here's the thing, buddy." Sam was about to pat Monk on the shoulder then pulled back. "Natalie tells me that when things get tough, you're the tough guy who gets going. You come through in the clutch. You're the go-to guy."

"He is," Natalie said. "He absolutely is.. Like that time I was in the back of that truck."

Sam leaned in and whispered. "Are you ready to help us take these guys out?"

Monk sat with his shoulders hunched and his hands clasped over his chest. As his dark eyes darted to his left, he gave a slight but strongly affirmative nod.

"Good deal, buddy."

"Mister Monk can surprise you," Natalie said quietly as they all rose. She kept her back to their captors. "I know he has a lot of his 'things,' his fears. But when there's trouble, he's there for you."

"I get it," Michael said. "It's the same with me, Mister Monk. I feel afraid, too. Especially when my mom and my friends are in danger. But then I just go ahead and take action."

"I'm with you, Michael," Monk said. "What's the plan?"

"We usually have to improvise," Sam said.

"A lot," from Michael.

"Oh, that's reassuring."

"Mister Monk, can you pretend to be crazy? We need to distract these guys."

"I'll try." Pausing, Monk recalled another time he got too close to an explosion. In a loud voice, he repeated the phrase he used then. "I'm pretty sure Howdy Doody was a puppet!"

As the hooded men reacted, Michael held out an open palm. "It's just a reaction to the medicine."

Monk glanced at Michael. "That fake client I talked to said you were a burned spy. Were the burns really painful and awful?"

Michael attempted a patient smile. "Mister Monk, we've been through this.. Being burned doesn't mean I was in a fire."

"Here's what I think happened," Monk said in a raspy voice. His throat was dry because he had not had any Sierra Springs to drink all day. "Your face was so badly burned that you had to have plastic surgery. So you had them make you look like Steve Wagner the astronaut."

Michael's patient smile drooped. "I really don't want to hear any more about this Steve Wagner."

Sam held out open palms. "Come on, Mikey. You gotta admit it's pretty impressive." Briefly, Sam turned to the hooded men. "You guys might appreciate this. Steve Wagner commits murder, while he's in space. The guy had an airtight alibi. But our buddy Adrian here caught him anyway." Turning back, Sam winked at the detective. "Good job, buddy."

"Thanks, Sam," Monk said with a grin.

"Yes, Mister Monk is very impressive," Michael said in his usual cool casual voice as he stood with his arms folded in a cool casual way.

"Too bad he's gonna get blown sky-high," Shorty said. "Along with the rest of you."

"Shh." Michael held a finger to his lips. "Try not to frighten the hostages. They might fight back." Around him, the bank employees all tensed up as they mumbled in a frightened manner.

"Yeah, let's change the subject." Tall One gestured with his weapon. "What's this about you being burned?"

"I'd rather not talk about that," Michael said.

Monk groaned loudly. "The burns must have been horrible. Were there a lot of scars?"

In response, Michael briefly let his head plop down. "Being burned does not mean what you think it does, Mister Monk."

With his hands on his knees, Sam bent down to speak to Monk. "Okay. Adrian? You with me, buddy? We'll go through it one more time. Try to get your head around this. Being burned means you're a spy who got fired."

"Must not have done a good job then," Monk said. Next to him, Madeline and Natalie glanced nervously at the vault door.

While Madeline gestured an imaginary cigarette, Fiona crossed her arms. "Here's the story, Adrian. Michael used to be a spy."

"Until he got blacklisted," Sam said.

Monk spoke in a comical deep voice. "'We got a burn notice on you. You're blacklisted.'" He winced. "Oh, blacklisted. Black is so dark and dirty."

"Take it easy, Adrian honey."

Tall One put a hand to his chest. "I'm so touched by all this, really." His deep voice was much like that of "Prison Break" actor Dominic Purcell.

Michael crossed his arms and spoke with his usual air of cool authority. "When you're burned, you got nothing. No cash, no credit, no job history. You're stuck in whatever city they dump you in."

"In this case, Miami," Fiona said casually as she spread out her hands to gesture around her.

"Miami," Monk muttered. "Chaos. Hell."

"It's not that bad," Sam insisted. "We do have good mojitos here."

"It's a jungle out there." Monk shuddered.

"Take it easy, buddy. Hey, can we-?"

Sam was interrupted by loud popping noises. The armed hoodlums all reacted. Yet in mere moments they were tackled to the ground. Monk and Michael took down the tallest one together.

Everyone then cleared the building. A black SUV waited at the bank's main entrance. A man in shades waved. Monk, Michael and their associates all hurried inside. Other black SUV's quickly lined up for the bank employees. Even before his vehicle pulled away, Sam was on the phone.

"Yeah, you need to get a bomb squad right away to First Miami at Nix and Breckman."

In the front seat, Monk shouted. "'Blinker! Blinker!" The shaded driver scowled at him.

The car ride was mercifully short. When they stopped outside an aluminum graffiti-covered warehouse, Kalid stood waiting. He looked like someone who had the head of Mike Tyson with a tailored designer suit draped over the large body of Michael Clarke Duncan.

"Adrian Monk," he said in a deep voice much like that of James Earl Jones. He spread out hands that bore multiple gold rings. "You're a man of your word. Thanks to you and your friends, I'm cleared of those murder charges."

"Always happy to help out a druglord-slash-kidnapper," Natalie said with a trace of annoyance in her face and her voice.

"You tell him, Natalie."

"I will, Fiona. I did." They fist-bumped each other.

Kalid smiled broadly. "I do apologize, Miss Teeger. I only held you as leverage so Monk would take my case."

"Just like Dale the Whale wanted you to," Monk said with a steely gaze.

Kalid held up his ringed fingers. "But I did get all of you transpo out of a very bad situation. Bygones?"

Now Natalie wore a steely gaze. "Don't let it happen again."

"You rock, Natalie."

"Right back at you, Fi." Another fist-bump.

With a big smile accompanied by squinting eyes, Kalid slowly stepped forward. His hands were up, palms out. "To make up for what I did, you and Mister Monk and all your friends are now under my protection."

"Okay," Monk said weakly as he tilted his head and shook his shoulders. "Thanks."

"We appreciate that, Kalid," Michael said with his usual casual cool. "And from now on when Mister Monk and Natalie are in Miami, they're under our protection, too."


End file.
